I've got a problem for your solution
by Telera1701
Summary: What happens when you mix elements from a cliché detective story with Resident Evil characters?... Rated T for language
1. Chapter 1

**I'VE GOT A PROBLEM FOR YOUR SOLUTION**

_Disclaimer: If I owned Resident Evil do you think I'd be writing crappy fics? Well, probably I would, but that's not the point... I don't own it._

_A/N: I should credit the idea for this story, though I don't remember who wrote the one I took inspiration from. Thank you whoever you are! Anyways this is a parody combining cliché elements of a detective story with Resident Evil characters, intentionally ignoring most of their backgrounds and so on, I made this just for fun so don't complain if they're kinda OOC._

_Hey Lara, 'member our oneshot challenge thing? This one's for you. _

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The name's Leon Kennedy, friends call me Leon, the others... someone knows me as 'The Rookie' -long story about my very short career in the RPD, you really don't wanna know about it-, someone else as Kennedy PI, private investigator. I've got my own office, well, kind of. It's more like an old dump to me, but it works fine, and is just as much as I can afford. I also got an assistant, Ingrid Hunnigan, or Hunny as her boyfriend calls her. She helps me with the paperwork, answers the phone and tries to keep the place tidy, with little success I must add. The lady is cute, you may even consider her attractive, but she really ain't my kind of girl. Don't take me wrong, she's got the brains and I'm sure she's got a big heart of gold underneath her strict manners, she's just too icy cold for my likings, that's all. We make a good team though, she keeps me in line while I do the job.

Anyways, it was your usual early October Monday morning, just stepped out of the shower and was shaving in front of the mirror. I looked with satisfaction at my own reflection. Don't wanna sound cocky, but I'm one hell of a hot guy. Blond hair, blue eyes, a perfect smile and perfectly well toned body, the ladies should be fighting over a guy like me! And here comes the depressing part. Last time I dated a girl was six years ago, a pretty red hair named Claire. She was fine, no, she was gorgeous. She came to me searching for her missing brother, no word for a couple of months and she was worried. We grew quite close during the investigation and ended up dating. Everything went fine 'till her brother, Chris, popped out of the blue and eventually found me with his younger sister. Jeez, the man beat the crap out of me. The guy was an ex air-force or something, but what Claire forgot to tell me was that her bro was the leader of Stars, the toughest gang in town back in the days (now they don't have nearly as much power, they're down to the Cedar District and another few spots in the south side). Useless to say, that was the last time I saw Miss Claire Redfield.

I put away the razor and washed the remains of shaving cream off my face. With the depressing thought of my ex girlfriend I grabbed my trenchcoat and went to my car. The old lady is nothing to be proud of, but she takes me where I have to go and never let me down, that's all I ask of her.

Raccoon City is always damn crowded and traffic is a curse I got to endure every morning. Especially on Mondays. And guess what... I hate Mondays. It was awfully late when I finally parked in front of my office. My week was starting as bad as usual and Ingrid was probably going to bitch about me not being on time.

"Goodmorning, comrade!" getting out of the car I was greeted by Ingrid's man.

"Hi '_comrade'_. Kinda hot for your average October day, ain't it?", he was wearing his white undershirt, not bothering to put on his jacket. I mean, it wasn't that hot, but the guy simply loved to show off his muscles.

"Blame the globular warming."

I smirked. "You mean global warming..."

"Whatever. Global...globular..." meet Jack Krauser, the most ignorant man on earth.

"Payed a visit to your Hunny?"

Those two are the strangest couple in the world, they're complete opposites, Jack's an ex-military, as strong as a rock, he's an overall good guy, but he ain't got much upstairs if ya know what I mean. Better not to ask what they find with each other.

"Just asked her out to dinner," he jumped into his car. "Better watch out comrade, she's kinda pissed." As usual. She always was. I walked up to my 'lovely' office and couldn't help noting the tag on the door. Few years ago you could see my name all spiffy and bright, nowadays all you can read is '_Ke n dy P.I._', guess I should change it one of these days, one may think some cartoon doll's running the business. Stepping through the door I was ready for some of Ingrid's complaints. "'Morning, Ingrid. Any calls, today?" I asked her displaying my best smile. Instead of chastising me she muttered something and shook her head toward the glass door of my office. I turned my head and I saw her. That moment I knew my life was about to change.

Behind the opaque glass I could see her curvy shadow waiting for me. I opened the door and there she was, legs that seemed to go on forever showing from the slit of her red dress, this sexy bombshell with a dynamite body was standing right in front of my desk.

"Please, take a seat." I said, sitting on my armchair to face this beautiful stranger. Her short raven hair slightly covered her features. The black traces of mascara on her flawless cheeks told me those hypnotizing hazel eyes must have been crying not too long ago.

"Good morning Miss..."

"Ms Wong, Ada Wong." she said sitting on the chair in front of me.

"Ms Wong... how can I help you?"

"I'm desperate, Mr. Kennedy..." she began sobbing. "I'm desperate... " she covered her face with her pale hands. "My boyfriend," she burst into tears, "he disappared..." Boyfriend. Damn. I knew it. Babes like that one always end up in someone else's arms.

I offered her a box of tissues. "Please, Ms Wong..." I was never good with crying women, "tell me what happened. What's your boyfriend's name?"

She calmed down a little then answered me, "John. He's name's John Howe. We were supposed to leave for Paris one week ago but he didn't show up. I tried to call him on the phone but he didn't answer, I went to his place but didn't find him there. I asked his colleagues if they'd seen him but nothing," she started sobbing again.

I remembered hearing his name somewhere..."What's his job, who's he working for?"

"I don't really know much about his job, we've been dating for less than a month... I think he's a barman or waiter at The Mansion."

I jolted on my feet, "The Mansion?! You mean Spencer's Mansion?"

Oh right, I guess it's time to tell you about the most exclusive nightclub in Raccoon City. All the big names in town spent their fancy evenings at The Mansion. Politicians, movie Stars, hit list singers, businessmen, even nobles, you name it. Everyone who had the money would want so waste it there. Top model Alexia Ashfordwas often seen at the club, so were Ambassador Sergei Vladimir and Senator James Marcus. But everybody knew that behind the sparkling lights and expensive dresses, The Mansion was also the HQ of the most powerful gang in town, the Umbrella. Everybody knew but nobody talked 'cause Ozwell 'Ozzy' Spencer was rich and powerful enough to keep those mouths sealed, one way or the other. Where did that Ozzy name came from? One of his gals, Lisa, called him that, somehow his pet name got out and it stuck to the old gangster. Ozzy wasn't very pleased with it... let's just say his gal, Lisa, mysteriously disappeared sometime later. Anyway, the boss was rarely in town, he had other business across the country, and left his best men in charge of the Mansion: Will Birkin, known as 'the Doc', and Al 'Kitty Eyes' Wesker. To this day I still haven't got a clue on why people gave him that odd nickname. As far as I know, no one -aside from his buddy the Doc-, has ever even seen him without his shades.

If Ms Wong's boyfriend had messed up with those people, the guy was most surely gone for good. But I couldn't tell this to the beautiful lady in front of me, could I?

"I'll pay you, no matter what the cost... please find him, Mr Kennedy... I need to know what happened to him, to know if he's still alive or... or..." A lone tear ran down her cheek.

I definitely had to help her, no matter if it meant to throw myself into deepest shit to find a dead man. "Don't worry, Ms Wong. I'll find him, I'll do my best." A slight smile formed on her red lips, a smile that could have melted the thickest ice. Anything for her.

"Here's my number, should you find anything." She handed me her name card.

"Sure thing, Ms Wong." I said leading her to the door.

"Thank you..." She planted a soft kiss on my cheek and left. I hardly believed what had just happened as I stood by the door like an idiot. I heard the sound of her high heels on the sidewalk and sped to the window to catch one last glance of her breath-taking figure.

I leaned in my armchair and noticed Ingrid's disappointed glare. "What's that for?" I asked.

"John Howe. Doesn't that remind you of something?" She crossed her arms. "C'mon Leon, John Howe..."

It did but I really couldn't place him anywhere, "Someone I know?" The one thing I really loved about my assistant was her perfect memory for names.

"What if I said 'Lapdog' John?"

I sat up, "Didn't he work for..."

She nodded. "Better be careful, Leon. I'm not so sure you wanna deal with this, it's dangerous people we're talking about. I wouldn't trust that Ms Wong if I were you, she's one smart lady."

Lapdog John, one of the Doc's flunkies. I hadn't heard much about John, but his boss... Will Birkin was pretty famous.Though everybody called him 'the Doc', hardly anyone would ever want to end up on his table. People said he made human experiments, that he was a loony scientist. People usually say a load of bullshit, but I couldn't be so certain whether to believe those stories or not. Sure thing was that the guy was dangerous. Nearly as dangerous as his best pal Kitty Eyes Wesker. Those two were the right and left hands of the Devil.

Hunnigan was probably right, and that smart cookie probably knew a great deal more than she admitted to, but I was determined to see it through. And a little chat with the Doc was the first step of my investigation.

--

The Mansion should have been the obvious place to find Will Birkin, but you don't simply go there and ask around. No one gets in without an invitation, and you really don't want to get your ass kicked by the bouncer at the door, that Nemmy Boy could scare the shit out of anyone. No. The Mansion was off limits. I had to find another way to talk with the Doc. I had nothing but an old address, I doubted I would find him there but it was worth a try.

I parked my car across the street. The house looked abandoned. Either that or they really should have done some cleaning every once in a while. I knocked the front door then tried with the back. I peaked through the dirty windows. Nothing. I was about to leave when I noticed a freak standing by my vehicle. No doubt he wasn't there to steal it.

"Looking for someone, strangahr?" He said with the weirdest accent.

"What d'ya want?" That guy had something vicious.

"Me? Nuthing. But I bet you're looking for the Birkins, ain't ye?" He might have had a scarf over his face but I swear he was smirking. "Might have news for ye, detective."

"I'm listening."

"Not so fast, strangahr. Cash first." The greedy pig relieved me of a hundred bucks. "They moved some time ago, to the Cedar District. Ye'll find 'em not too far from the Los Illuminados chapel."

"Nothing else?" He shook his head. The weirdo had pretty expensive information. "Be going then."

"Come back any time, strangahr." Yeah sure. Forget it.

_A/N: It's stupid but I'm having fun with this... BTW, it was first uploaded as a oneshot, but it was damn too long so I divided it into a 2 chapters min-fic._


	2. Chapter 2

_So here's the second and last part of this demented product of my bored mind. Sorry Lara, this is not a real 2nd chapter, I just divided the original oneshot in a "two shots"._

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I started the engine and after forty minutes stuck in the usual traffic jam I finally reached the chapel. Only problem was that no houses could be seen near the religius building. That bastard had lied! I was about do drive back to teach that merchant a good lesson when I noticed a long row of dark limos in front of the small church. A funeral. I shot a glance over the small crowd when I recognized a face I hadn't seen for quite some time.

"Claire..." I walked closer. My babe hadn't aged a day. And man, she looked good in black.

"Now what do we have here..." A strong hand painfully squeezed my shoulder, "Thought I told ya to stay away from my sis, rookie." Chris Redfield, in his dark gray pinstriped suit. Just the right person you'd like to meet if you want someone to play bongo drums on your kidneys. And he was not alone. Barry Burton, Joe Frost, even 'Chickenheart' Vickers, his faithful henchmen were all there as well, all in their formal attire. Lady Luck was really looking somewhere else that day, 'cause I had the strong feeling she wasn't on me.

"I'm not following your sister, I was-" he decided to cut short with my reply and punched me directly in the stomach. I didn't remember it hurt so much. That damn monday was rapidly turning from bad to worse.

"Enough, Chris."

My old 'friend' stopped just before landing his second fist on my face and dumped me on the ground at his feet. "Thank the lady, rookie."

Praise the Lord for sending me his angel. Well, not exactly an angel. That voice belonged to none other than to Jilly 'Lockpick' Valentine, Chris' gal. Her gorgeous body was dressed in a tight black dress with a thin veil covering her face. And her legs... Not only was she a super sexy chick, she was also the toughest member of the gang -after Redfield, of course-, great shooting skills and a very special talent with the locks, there her name. That Redfield had really chosen one fine girl and was as jealous as hell. There was this Carlos once, hitting on Miss Valentine... lemme just tell ya he ended up hitting on her man's fists instead.

"Thanks, Jill" I said pulling myself up.

"Show some respect, rookie. It's Ms Valentine for you." Vickers intervened.

"Shut up Chickenheart, go hide somewhere while big guys talk," Chris scolded him. "So, detective, better have one very good reason to be in our side of the town."

I dusted off my clothes and looked at him. Why would that merchant tell me to search for Birkin, a head of Umbrella, a rival gang, in Stars territory? _Redfield might know something_. "I'm looking for the Doc, got rumors he lives around here."

"The Doc?" Chris and the others exchanged glances and burst out laughing, "Ya really ain't Mr Latest News, detective. See that coffin?" He pointed toward a hearse, "That's your Doc."

Just then I realized there was another one behind the Doc's, "And who's the other?"

"That's Annette Birkin," Jill answered. "They were shot two nights ago. That little girl over there, next to Claire, she's the sole surviving member of their family. And before you ask, no, it wasn't us who did the job."

"I don't get it... Shouldn't his funeral be held somewhere else? Why'syour gang here? And why don't I see any of the Umbrella? Not even Wesker..."

"Your lack of information surprises me, detective. You got no clue on what's going on... There have been big changes in town..." She lit a cigarette and began explaining. "Wesker and the Doc were planning to leave Spencer and start business on their own. I bet that was Al's idea 'cause Birkin wasn't the kind of man to take such decisions. Anyways, Will feared for his life, and moved down here, ya know... _my enemy's enemy is my friend._ As you can see, detective, he should have chosen a safer hideout. His daughter, Sherry, was real lucky to get out alive. I heard Ozzy sent his best killer, ya might have heard of him, they call him Mr Death."

Mr Death... I didn't like the sound of that. "What about Kitty Eyes?"

"That son of a bitch?" Chris muttered clenching his infamous fists. Wesker and him went a long way back, I knew they used to be friends once, before Kitty Eyes turned his back on the gang to join Umbrella. Friendship and loyalty were two things the Stars leader held in highest regard, and I believe he never really coped with Al's betrayal.

"The bastard disappared about two months ago, leaving the Doc behind," he spat on the ground. "Now fuck off, rookie, and send my greetings to his Chinese whore, I'm sure you've already met the bitch in the red dress." He turned his back and started to walk to the chapel taking his woman's arm.

I knew my time was up but, "You can't be talking of Ms Wong... her boyfriend's John Howe. She hired me to find him..."

"Who? Lapdog John? Oh honey, he's so naive..." Jill turned to face me, "Do yourself a favour and go home. This job ain't made for you, rookie."

"The man's dead, throw a rose in Marble River, _detective,_" Chris spoke that last word with clear disgust.

The funeral was about to start and it was time for me to leave. I looked at Claire holding the hand of the little orphan. Our eyes met for one brief moment, the sadness in her deep blue gaze was her final farewell. I wanted to run to her, to shout her name, do something. Instead I just stood where I was, unable to make a move. I saw another guy putting his arm around her neck as they walked inside. I sighted, maybe her brother was right, he didn't want her to end up with a looser like me.

But it wasn't the right moment to linger on my unhappy love life. The man I was looking for was dead, I could take it for sure if it came from Chris Redfield. He and his gang dug in pretty rotten business, but he wasn't a liar. A honest criminal... It was on someone else's honesty I was seriously starting to doubt about. There was work to do and Ms Wong had many questions to answer. The deeper I investigated the thicker the mist. I had the feeling I was getting my self into big trouble and I had to be extra careful if I didn't want to end up lying in the Doc's company, 6ft under.

--

I knew I could trust good ol Chris, but I got to check that information out before I could tell Ms Wong her boyfriend, supposed he really was it, was sleeping with the fish. Dark clouds were gathering over my head. I'm no superstitious guy, but the menacing sky had the looks of an inauspicious omen. I got back in my car and drove down to that stinky open sewer known as Marble River.

What used to be a nice stroll years ago had turned into one of the worst zones in Raccoon City. There were only two good reasons to come here: the best whyskey and the finest girls in town, namely Café13. I wondered what could have taken John Howe down to this place, with a babe like Ms Wong I wouldn't go searching for some cheap entertainment, but then again I couldn't be sure about what kind of realationship they had. It was still early and the small club was almost empty. Good. The ladies didn't like to be seen talking with cops in front of their customers. The fact I was a P.I. din't make much difference.

"Look at that, Kennedy P.I... What takes you to deal with our kind, detective?" Billy 'the Con' welcomed me from behind the counter. Ya see, this guy is real moody and holds some damn bad grudge against cops. I had 50 chances of getting my ass kicked out of the door that day. Call me lucky. I can't say I know him well, but we're kinda old acquaintances. He started to like me best when I was thrown out of the RPD, but the fact I once signed with the enemy is a stain I'll have to endure for life (at least from his point of view).

"Wild Turkey on the rocks, Billy," I sighted, "Make it double."

He filled the glass with the amber drink. "Ya don't look good, man... better put some ice on that eye." I looked at my reflection behind him. My right eye was black and swollen from my close encounter with Redfield's friendly knuckles. "Messed up with the wrong lady, huh?" he grinned, handing me the ice bucket.

"Yeah, you say it..." I said with a muffled voice. "Hey, might have heard of this guy... Howe, Lapdog John..."

"Yeah, might have... ows you money? If so you'd better forget it." He answered, drying his hands on a worn piece of cloth.

"I know, a friend of mine told me he's fishfood now... Was wondering if you had any idea on who helped him jump off the bridge..."

"That's about as much as I know..." he paused and lowered his voice, "but Ashley... you might wanna ask her." He grabbed my arm before I could get up from the stool, "...nobody dares shoot anybody in my zone, not without my permission."

I nodded, nobody trespasses Billy the Con. Lapdog's murder was a back slap to his pride. I sat at the table where Ashley, the village bicycle, was doing her manicure.

"Leon, honey... is there _anything_ I can do for you?" she said with that squeaky voice of hers.

"Actually there is. Yor boss there says ya might know something about what happened to John Howe..."

"What do I get if I tell you what I know..." she slid closer to me. I tell ya she can make a stone blush.

"Hey, babe, I'm on duty ya know?"

"How about some overtime, pretty boy..." She took a sip from my drink, never breaking eye contact.

"Ehm, we'll talk about that later, now what have you heard or seen?" I took my glass back.

"Duty bound as always... the man, Howe, he came here from time to time. Well, about one week ago i was outside for a smoke when I recognized him talking with another guy over the bridge. A moment later his pal takes out a gun, shoots him in the head and gets away in his car. Just like that."

"Why didn't you call the police?"

"The cops? Ya kiddin' me? Coulda been a cop to shoot the dude as far as I know." Ashley was right. The last thing you could trust in this dirty town was the RPD. Not with Chief Irons. The corrupted pig... At least Howe's death was a fact. I thanked her and went for the telephone.

--

It was ten past eight in the evening and a light rain had begun to fall over Raccoon City. The evening air had chilled considerably and I was now shrinking in my light trenchcoat under the tent of Bar J. She didn't want to meet me at the office, she sounded tremendously serious so we agreed for this place. She said she'd be there at eight. I know ten minutes ain't much of a delay, but knowing the people I was messing with I started to get worried at one past eight. At least I was distracted enough not to feel too cold. Now that I think about it I should have waited inside, the bar was warm and cozy, but hey, past is past and that was definitely not one of the important choices of my life. I kept checking the time. Eight eleven. Still no sign of her. I was about to make a call from the public phone when I heard the unmistakable sound of her high heels.

"I'm a bit late, sorry," she said with a smile.

I couldn't help but smile back. Women. "It's ok, Ms Wong. Shall we go inside?"

I was greeted by a series of goofy grins and smirks as the guys at the counter saw me enter with the Asian chick. "Please forgive them ma'am, they're not used to a woman... to a woman like you," I said eyeing her perfect 'behind'. Bar J was the safest place I could think of, the only one which hadn't yet mingled with the gangs. It was so small and irrelevant that neither Stars nor Umbrella held any interest in controlling, which made it the perfect place for a little talk with my mysterious client. It was now obvious she was involved with Ozzy's party, what I really didn't understand was why would she drag me, a penniless P.I., into their war. And the search for that boyfriend of hers, John Howe, sounded so much like an excuse.

We took a seat in the far corner of the room. She took off her black gloves and crossed her legs. Man, I swear I heard my jaw drop to the floor at that sight. If I had a weaker heart I'd be already flying with the angels if ya know what I mean. I managed to get a hold on myself and sat in front of her, I was a professional after all.

"Ma'am, I'm not good with this kind of things so I'll go straight to the point." I cleared my throat, "John Howe's dead."

She toyed nervously with the glove in her hands, "Assassinated?"

I nodded, "There's something else, Ms Wong... Does the name Al Wesker sound familiar?"

She stared at me with a blank expression, "Who?" Too blank.

"I'm not in the mood for stupid games, lady." I barked at her lie, suddenly reminding of my throbbing black eye, "My friend Redfield told me interesting things about you and Kitty Eyes."

"You'd rather believe the word of a known gangster than mine?" She stood up, indignation depicted on her beautiful face.

"That's because you ain't telling me the truth, Ma'am!" I raised my voice, she was really pushing it. The bar turned quiet at my sudden outburst. Then it happened. She hastily grabbed her purse and slapped me on the face. Should have seen it coming. A second later she was out of the door. All the other customers were now staring at me. Shit.

"Ms Wong, wait!" I shouted as I spotted her silhouette running under the rain. "Ms Wong, please!" I began running in her direction, "Ada, wait!" She stopped.

What happened in the following minute was so fast that I'm still having a hard time figuring it out nowadays. A loud shreek of tires and a black car flanked the sidewalk. Gunshots. "LEON!" The backdoor opened, someone pulled her inside and before I was even able to realize it, she was gone. "ADA!" I didn't even register the stunning pain in my left shoulder. All I could do was stare at the empty spot where she stood just seconds before. They'd taken her and it was my fault.

I touched my aching shoulder and felt something warm and sticky. Blood, my blood. That's the last thing I saw before passing out.

I woke up a couple of hours later in the staff room of Bar J. I was shot and Cindy, the waitress, had found me and treated my wound. That Cindy's got a heart as big as a whale. But I didn't have time to thank her, I had to do something and I had one name that kept ringing in my ears since this whole story began: The Mansion.

--

Even though it was Monday evening the club seemed pretty crowded. It would have been useless to try from the back, it would have only earned me another shot, or worse. I got out of the car and walked straight to the front door. Nick the Russian and Nemmy Boy blocked the entrance. The first was an imposing muscular guy, nothing special, I could easily take care of him. On the other hand, Nemmy was one huge, ugly son of a bitch. He never spoke save for one word: Stars. He hated them beyond belief. Rumors said he had this thing for Jilly Valentine and she refused him or something, but as I said, that's only rumors.

"Hey you! Where d'ya think you're going?"

"I'm here to see your boss."

"No one sees Mr Spencer without an appointment."

"I'm seeing him with or without your permission." I took a step forward and kicked the Russian in the guts and burst in the crowded main hall. Nick tackled me and I landed right at Spencer's feet.

Ozzy smirked, amused by my sorry attempt to avoid his guards. He shot a glance at his men and I was kicked out of the door. This time both Nemmy and Nick pointed their guns at my head. I was mentally saying my prayers when, to my great surprise, the big boss himself appeared from the door. "Little Blondie has the guts, what do you want?"

"Where's Ad... Ms Wong..." I said bluntly, too tired and week to make up anything different. Going there had been by far the worst idea of my life.

"That treacherous bitch? How should I know... wherever she is, that ungrateful woman is none of my business." Now that was something I wasn't prepared for.

"You... you didn't kidnap her?" I was loosing it. If it wasn't him then who?

"Kidnap her?! Dear lad, should I find her, I'd shoot her where she stands. Now excuse me but my guests are waiting," he looked at me then turned to his men. "Get rid of him."

The cold barrel of Nemmy's gun pressed on my temple, "Last words?" Nick grinned.

All of a sudden the roar of an engine and a blinding light was rapidly closing on us. "Move!" I lept just in time to avoid the car that went crashing at full speed against the wall. Nick got up from the ground and darted toward the wrecked vehicle. "Explosives!"

A second later the car blew up in a huge ball of fire, the shockwave throwing me at least thirty feet away. The entrance to the club: demolished. Through the smoke and dust I could barely see anything. Chaos had fell upon the Mansion. Then a familiar car stopped a few feet from me. The driver hurried to open the back door and a tall figure dressed in a black tuxedo stepped out. "Your time is over Spencer... The only thing that can defeat power, is more power..." I heard him say in a deep cold voice. Those blond sleek hair, the gloved hands, but above all his trademark shades... it didn't take a genius: Al Wesker was back and my problems in the town were just beginning.

* * *

_The end... maybe. Like it? Hate it? It's crappy, I know, but at least I had fun writing it -which is what really matters-. Might decide to continue this, dunno... R&R _


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